Unknown Heros
by Sisuphix
Summary: Sisuphix watched as the so called hero of Kvatch was slain. What were they to do now, some one had to take his place. But who? Reviews welcomed and appreciated
1. Rescue

Thunder shouted across the sky, filling the chilled air with noise. A lone traveler, badly wounded, looked up towards the darkened sky. A storm was coming fast. Lightning danced across the horizon. The traveler, carrying his armor at his side, continued walking looking for to find shelter, hopefully an inn or farm. He was a dark elf with brown spiked hair and blue tinted skin. His face was young and full of life, but his eyes. His eyes told stories of terrible things. His eyes showed wisdom and age gained through his past. He marked himself, a tattoo across the left eye to show all that he was different. He wore the red hood of the War Wizards, dangerous warriors who practice fighting and magic use. His chest and arm wrapped with bloody bandages, once a good shirt. He limped slightly. He got the better end of the stick. The bandits that attacked him were dead. There bodies probably being picked apart by animals. His armor no longer wearable because of an axe he took to the chest, the armor had done its job though. He had to be more careful, stuff like that shouldn't happen against a real opponent. Thunder broke the traveler's thought.

He had to pick up the pace, if he was to find shelter. His was tired and hungry. His arm hurt from were the arrow hit him and his chest hurt from the axe. His magicka was drained. He felt the first drop land on his shoulder, and then many more followed. His glance flicked to the sky as a light drizzle began to fall. He broke into a slight jog, steel sword bouncing on his side as he ran. He saw a lump of rocks ahead off the path to the right, with any luck it would be a cave. Rain is the worst enemy for travelers causing miles of being uncomfortable. The closer he got to the rock formation the heavier the rain began to fall. The rock cave slowly revealed itself to be cave. The dark elf jogged over to the cave and stopped to catch his breath. He drew his sword to prepare himself for whatever was inside the cave. Saying a prayer to Tiber Septim for strength and skill with his blade, he entered the cave.

The cave was dark and reeked of death. The rocky floor of the cave was covered with the light blue glow of mushrooms. The dark elf searched general area of the cave careful not to stray to far from the main room. Satisfied that there was no threat, he returned to the main cavern of the cave searching for a good spot to sleep. He picked a the highest point in the cave a ledge that was as tall as two imperials. He climbed up with a quite a bit of difficulty. His wounds really limited his movement. He was lucky his arrow hadn't hit his sword arm. He built a small fire to keep the smell at bay. He rummaged in his supplies and began to greedily consume an apple. After eating and sitting by the warm fire, tiredness began to consume him. He lay back and listened to the clash of thunder and the pitter patter of the rain outside. Before he knew it he was asleep with the fire smoldering beside him.

The war wizard awoke to the clattering of metal hitting stone. The cave now strongly reeked of rotting flesh and death. "Damn this high elf is heavy," a raspy voice called out.

"Just take off his armor, that will make him lighter," replied a female voice.

There was a crack of thunder as they threw the high elf's armor to the side.

"Curse this rain," cried the 1st voice, "How much farther is the Aeylid Ruin, what was its name?"

"Belda and we have a few more miles; we need to get this high elf to Worm-tongue soon."

The dark elf slowly inched his way over to the edge, to get a better look at the faces behind the voices. He peered over the ledge to see two figures wearing black robes. The tall one was male and either an Imperial or Breton, most likely Breton. The shorter one was female, he could tell that from the voice, but he couldn't see her face, she was wearing a hood. They both were carrying steel maces. Necromancers, they were easily recognized. They reeked of rotting flesh and were naturally pale, the lower eyelid slowly turning black from all of the black magic use. He watched them for a while; they tossed the High elf to the side and set up a small fire. One of them summoned a zombie and it began to aimlessly wonder around the cave. Watching the Necromancer's the dark elves red eyes burned with hate and rage. His fists tightened grasping the edge ledge. Fueled with rage he grabbed his sword and he jumped from the ledge. The female looked up at him in surprise. Her face was once beautiful but was now highly scared, her eyes black yielding no comfort or light. "Who are you?" she asked the stranger standing before her.

"I am the darkness that you have created."

And with that it began.

He swung the blade around his head spinning around. The head landed with a nasty thud on the ground. The headless body of the Necromancer toppled behind him. Instantly the other necromancer began to sling spells. Rolling to the side, he turned to taking an ice blast to the side. His side instantly exploded with extreme pain. The dark elf winced as he was slammed into the wall by another spell. He was in major pain. Spells were extremely effective against him because he was born under the apprentice. He dodged a lightning spell and waited for his magicka to regain. After dodging a few more he muttered his own spell and charged his sword with electricity. He turned to stare at the Necromancer. He rushed forward taking a fire ball to the chest. The necromancer chuckling, thinking that he had finished off the strange warrior. Before the necromancer could finish his laugh, the dark elf burst from the flames stabbing the necromancer through the stomach. The necromancer's body shook as the electricity jolted through his veins. The dark elf pulled out his blade and the body crumpled. The dark elf stared down at the bodies, when all of the sudden a flame blast misses him by inched exploding behind him. The dark elf jumped into a fighter's stance preparing to take on the unknown assailant. Before him stood the high elf holding him self up against the fungus covered wall of the cave. "The zombie was behind you," he muttered before collapsing.

A few hours later the cave was rid of the bodies and the dark elf was slowly roasting a huge chunk of meet. He heard a groan, and saw that the high elf began to awaken. He sat up staring at the dark elf. "What's your name?" the dark elf asked. "Naro," replied the high elf, "Yours?"

"Sisuphix"


	2. Thorn

Deep inside of some Aeylid ruins outside of the Imperial city, a shadowy presence crept foreword. The ruin floor was cluttered with debris and random stolen artifacts; thanks to a group of bandits who had taken up residence. The figure stepped over an iron shield carelessly strewn on the floor. He knew the slightest sound would give him away. As the figure passed a torch the light hit part of his face. He was a Dunmer or dark elf, born in Hammerfell, but not raised there. He was raised in Vvardenfell. He kept his hood drawn so few could see his face. His name was unknown, but to his friends and enemies he was known as Thorn. Thorn was dressed in all black armor, similar to that of the rival faction, the dark brotherhood. But he was not one of them. He was a member of the Shadow Guild. One of the last remaining members.

Thorn crept forward and quickly dodged out of the light. "No way, that guy got what he deserved. Lying face down in a pool of his blood. He should have known better than to mess with us." Thorn froze; his eyes flicked back and forth searching for the owner of the voice. It came from in front of him, around the corner. Thorn slowly crept forward. He peered around the corner to see two bandits engaged in conversation. One had on steel armor and the other wore iron. By looking at one of the bandits faces he could tell that he was a Nord. As for the other, in the steel armor, there was no way of knowing. They babbled on about some attack they pulled on a traveling noble and how a stable boy got in the way. They had killed him. Thorn studied their movements carefully. He found he could read people very easily based on their actions. "Oh Crowl," the Nord cried out, "!" Crowl, the one in steel armor, was definitely in charge. He moved with power and grace. The Nord on the other hand contained nothing but raw power, by the looks of him, he was all muscle. His movements were slow but precise. Thorn pulled of his bow and knocked and arrow. He had decided to eliminate Crowl first. He probably would have been the hardest to kill. He aimed the bow into the middle of Crowls' back. He let the arrow loose and with a deadly hiss and thud it found its mark. Crowl crumpled into the Nord's arms. Thorn withdrew deeper into the shadows and waited for the perfect moment to strike. He watched as the Nord lay Crowls body down and swore that he was going to get revenge on who ever did this. And with that he stood up and drew the menacing war hammer from his back. He rushed around the corner into the passage in which Thorn was hiding. He slowed to a walk and began to cautiously move forward. Step by step he made his way towards Thorns' hiding spot. Thrown drew the steel dagger from its sheath. The Nord continued forward marching towards his death. As the Nord passed Thorn's hiding place, Thorn stepped put behind him. He slid the dagger in front of the Nords' throat and with a flick of the wrist he slit it. The Nord gargled for life and air as he collapsed to his knees and then as he fell onto his stomach. Admiring the work he accomplished Thorn stood still.

The shadows suddenly flicked behind him and Thorn, barely cut by the blade,

jumped to the side. He put his hand on his arm, and pulled it away. It was warm with blood. He tried to get a look at his assailant but as soon as he peered from underneath the hood, he had to dodge another attack. He flipped backwards as the blade cut the air in front of him. He looked out. The assailant stepped into the light. Thorn stared in awe at what he saw. It was Crowl. But not only was it Crowl, it was Crowl Bloodwolf. He could instantly tell it was him by the multiple scars lining his face. How could he have not put two and two together? He heard the name Crowl and immediately should have thought Crowl Bloodwolf. He was one of the most powerful Crime lords in all of Cyrodiil. Thorn was fighting one of the most dangerous men in all of the land.

Thorn was forced to jump away again. Dodging Crowls blade by inches. Thorn drew his eleven short sword. Crowl lunged forward aiming for Thorns heart, but Thorn was faster (due to years of training). He side stepped the attack and cut Crowl twice down the arm, one with each blade. Crowl cried out in pain. He launched a counterattack and punched Thorn in the side. Thorn, ignoring the blow, spun around and cut him across the face adding another scar to his all ready gruesome collection. Thorn couldn't kill Crowl, it would be too dangerous. Too many people would come after him. He would be dead before sun rise. Thorn jumped back and threw his dagger into the Crowls leg. Crowl dropped his sword and fell to the ground. Thorn walked over to him, he kicked the sword away. Crowl was rocking back and forth holding the dagger with both hands. "I'm not going to kill you Crowl Bloodwolf," Thorn said, "But I swear if I have heard that you or anyone of your bandits have committed another crime. I will hunt you down." Thorn stared down at him for a few more seconds then muttered the incantation under his breath, he had turned himself invisible. Thorn turned around and walked away, leaving Crowl to decide his fate.


End file.
